Op-Ed: The Nug I Couldn’t Smoke Over Break Now Feels More Like A Friend

Packing for Spring Break is like packing for a trip to the moon: I don’t know what I’ll be doing once I get there or how my weight will be affected, and have no clue as to whether I’ll be anywhere within the sun’s reach. Deciding to save my vacation money for a summer dedicated to buying jeans that I’ll inevitably and incorrectly slash into jorts, I settled for a not-so-wild spring break in my childhood home. Hoping my one cool cousin would be down to smoke a dooby, I brought home a quarter of my stash in hopes my parents forgot how to use their noses. However, Spring Break 2k19 has come and left us faster than our basketball team’s chances of making into the Fab Five. As it turns out, I still have this nug of weed... and maybe, also, a friend.

In a surprising turn of events, the weed I’d bought from my roommate's best friend's dog’s babysitter's boyfriend was no longer just a dank nug... It was family. I didn’t exactly want to make friendship bracelets with it, even though that would be a super cute activity to do while high, but I couldn’t bring myself to light the little jeeb up either. She was there for every spring break depression nap and every time my parents asked me what my roommates were doing for break. For every tap through bi-hourly Instagram stories of outer-circle friends drowning in NOLA beads, I had a friend to remind me that I didn’t even want to hang out with them anyway.

While finding new ways of wasting time over break, I had realized chiefing my weed with my parents around was going to be a lot more difficult than I originally expected. This break was supposed to be a cleanse - a peaceful week of rest, relaxation, and activities I don’t want on any kind of record. What was going to be me finding myself under the suburban stars quickly revealed itself to be me just losing my shit under the watchful eye of my parents?  My perfect little nug soon began to collect dust in the privacy of my bedroom and, of course, heart.

Ironically, I didn’t realize how deep our bond had become until we were leaving the place we’d fallen fastly in love. Once packed and ready for the bumper to bumper Hobbit-length journey back to Tallahassee, I buckled my nug into the passenger seat and began to tell her of all the fun we’d have once we arrived in the beautiful capital city. She’d get to be among all of her snortable and vapable friends. No way was I ever going to smoke my nug, for she was more than that. And now, with your help and votes, she can be even more. Ladies and gentleman, I am proud to announce that my nug is officially running for the 2020 presidency! I’ll expect the American public to support her as much as she’s supported me through my darkest, deepest times.